


Shattered Stars In Monochrome

by Smol_Bean_Babe



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Webseries)
Genre: Angst, Headcanon Names, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i've been wanting to write for some of my ''''lesser known''''' fandoms, lots of headcanon honestly, roy is bitch, seriously, so i wrote EDGE, these boys are damaged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:05:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smol_Bean_Babe/pseuds/Smol_Bean_Babe
Summary: In which Manny, Robin and Harry are all healing, and happy. But good things don't last.





	Shattered Stars In Monochrome

When Harry thought of Manny, he saw a son. When Robin thought of Manny, he saw the same.  
  
So, when Harry and Robin were tangled together in bed, Robin beating against Harry's chest as he sobbed into the collar of one of Harry's shirts, and they heard a thump and a muffled scream that sounded too much like Manny?  
  
Harry ripped himself out of bed, his feet hitting the floor with a loud thump. He turned to face Robin, who was curling inward, hugging his knees to his chest, and tasted something that felt like betrayal on the back of his tongue.  
  
Robin's form was much too small for a man of about twenty. He barely weighed a hundred pounds, soaking wet.  
  
Harry turned away then, before tears could sting his eyes as he thought of that man in costume, who had stabbed Robin once upon a time. He turned and, with purpose blazing in his maroon eyes, marched out of the room.  
  
The hallway was cold, dipping into temperatures that almost bit into the bare skin of Harry's calves. Something stabbed his chest through, and it took a quick check of his torso to find out that it was only his own feelings of urgency to _get to Manny, get to him_ now, and he found himself speed-walking through the hallway.  
  
There was bright light spilling out of Manny's room. Someone had turned on the light.  
  
Harry began to run.  
  
He was in Manny's room in under three steps, but there was still that raw press in the back of his throat, telling him to go faster, to run, to _sprint_ into Manny's room.  
  
And then, he was in the doorway, staring down at the seizing form of Manny, who was tangled in blankets and blue in the face as his comforter effectively strangled him.  
  
Harry sucked in a breath, crying out Manny's name and dashing forward. He folded his knees as he collapsed beside the writhing child, worried beyond belief as he tried to tamp out the squeeze on his ribcage.  
  
He ripped the covers out of the little boy's white-knuckled grip, untangling them from around his neck. As Manny took a few fragile breath, wrinkling his nose at the taste of the air, Harry knew what the kid was smelling-the pervasive tang of oil, slick but still burning his throat with its odor.  
  
He remembered that, once during the later evenings that the small family had spent together, Manny had sniffled his way through a story about how once he dreamt he had drowned in oil. He remembered it all, vividly. The crush of liquid surrounding his chest, the crunch of his jaw snapping open and shut, the pull as the oil filled his mouth, nose, and lungs.  
  
Harry breathed out in increments as the blue tinge faded from Manny's face, bringing a bit of color back into the picture. The blanket, now discarded, lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. Harry hadn't even realized that he'd thrown it. He looked around, tears swallowing the base of his vision, and he tried desperately to cling to some semblance of dignity in front of his adopted son.  
  
A spike of pain laced up his arm, and he looked down to find a familiar hand gripping his arm, fingernails dug into the skin.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
Something about the way that he said it made Harry look up. There was no way, _no way_ that Manny'd just called him that. 'Dad' had been what Manny had called Roy; it was always 'pops' or just simply Harry. Something painful crushed at the back of his throat, running home just what he'd been afraid might happen.  
  
Manny saw Roy when he looked at Harry. _Manny saw Roy when he looked at Harry._  
  
"Harry, say something," Manny was feverish, now tugging on Harry's wrist, trying to get the attention of someone who'd emotionally clocked out for the night. _Hasta la vista,_ Harry's mind whispered.  
  
But then there was something tugging at the edge of Harry's consciousness, and he'd just barely checked back in when he felt himself sweep Manny up into his arms, whispering 'it's okay' and 'I'm sorry' as Manny cried into his shoulder.  
  
There was a moment's hesitation at the door, and then Harry stepped out into the too-cold hallway. They had plenty of blankets in their room, anyway.  
  
It was when Harry was kicking the door to his and Robin's door closed that he finally had the courage to actually _say_ something, and not just whisper it.  
  
"What happened in there, bud?"  
  
It was a simple question, but Harry still managed to fuck it up. His voice cracked, crinkling in at the edges as he tried to cling to his words. Robin stirred on the bed, looking up with bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Harry? Is Manny oka-" There was a visible struggle going on in his eyes as he tried to take in the shape of son's form, shoulders wracked with barely periodical sobs. But, miraculously, he found his feet to stand and walk over to Harry, who was sure that he looked frazzled. His hair, long and bright red, must have looked like a misplaced brushfire in a rats' nest on top of his head, and his shirt must have been rucked up his back from where Manny's hands pulled at it, trying to hold onto something solid.  
  
  
"He's not okay. Not right now, at least. He's scared," Harry rumbled, petting the kid's back as he tried to fight the urge to cry. Neither Robin nor Manny needed to see him fall apart like a petulant child right now.  
  
"Can we just go to bed? I'm tired."  
  
There was an audible noise from the back of Robin's throat as Harry jumped at the sound. Neither of them had expected the exasperated, exhausted admission from Manny. He'd taken to using one-or-two word sentences since everything with Roy, but there were odd times when he'd spout something from the top of his head, or he'd ramble. _This_ was not usually one of those times, Harry thought as he sat on the bed.  
  
Robin climbed into bed beside Harry, trying on a shaky smile as he crawled around behind Harry to play with Manny's hands. The kid wouldn't laugh, not now, but he did play along and smack at Robin's fingers as he tried to kick his little legs. A whine rose from his throat as he tried to catch Robin's hands in his own.  
  
There was a noise from behind him, and Harry looked back just in time to see Robin plopping back on the pillows, still waving his hands in front of Manny.  
  
Harry found the mercy to release Manny from his grip, and he watched as his adopted son crawled over to his other father and sat on his chest, pouting.  
  
It wasn't even two minutes later that Harry found himself curled around his husband and their adopted son, both of them asleep and him still vigilant. Watching over them, even.  
  
And then, still curled around Robin and Manny, Harry found his words.  
  
"I'd do anything for you two."  
  
He leaned over, turned off their lamp, and let himself drift into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this far,,,, please don't flame me I just really wanted to write something for one of my passions other than Skyrim, but i'll still be writing for that obvs. Remember, spelling mistakes should be pointed out to me, no matter how teeny tiny because I will obliterate them without hesiation,,


End file.
